The Kindness of Strangers
by OffCenterFold
Summary: It began as a chance encounter.  The man who chose to wander meets a woman whose ties seem severed.  Together, they discover that even in a cold, forgetful world, kindness can still be found towards strangers.


**The Kindness of Strangers**

_Winter, ca. 7__th__ Year of Meiji_

The storm had hit hard. Himura Kenshin huddled under the little lean-to he'd cobbled together, shivering against the wind. The bitter cold was making him woozy; lack of food didn't help. He hadn't eaten a proper meal in three days. He would have to find a town soon, and hope someone would employ him long enough to let him earn something to continue his journey with.

For seven years he had wandered, and he was growing ever more tired. He had dedicated these years to helping people in need, giving selflessly to defend the weak and unprotected against those who would abuse them or threatened their peaceful way of life. He had fought hard to bring in the new era and restore the emperor to his rightful place. He'd be damned if he was going to let a little thing like dying of starvation get in his way.

He figured he was twenty-four or twenty-five years old. It wasn't old, not really, but it wasn't very young either. The storm raged around him and he wondered if he'd ever really been young.

Ten years as a child. Years he could no longer remember clearly. His parents were long since barely even a memory, having died of cholera when he was seven or eight. He could barely even remember more than the names of the three women who had been so kind to him for those brief hours before Hiko Seijuurou found him where he'd left him a week before, in front of the poor graves the small boy had dug for them. Kasumi, Akane, and Sakura. Their memories be blessed, those sweet young girls who had tried so hard to care for him, though they themselves were to be sold into slavery to settle their families' debts. He had known them only one day.

Orphaned before he was nine, he had been en route to a life of servitude himself when the caravan he'd traveled with was attacked. He'd been the only survivor. The lone man who had come and slain the attackers had seen something in the child. The boy had known too much of grief and loss already; the war-torn times were no less a hell on him than on many, but some spark yet burned brightly through his exhaustion and despair. Alone he had buried the bodies not just of his own companions but also their attackers. Death had left them all equal in his old-young eyes. The man, Hiko Seijuurou, had taken him in and given him a home. More than just a home, he raised the boy in his own path, teaching him Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu.

Overlapping those, ten years of preadolescence hurtling into young adulthood. Years spent on and by the war.

At fourteen he'd had a difference of opinion – he smiled at the mild sound of the phrase in his mind – with his mentor and left, his training as yet unfinished. Still, his slight stature and impressive speed and strength gave him an edge, as it were, for he left to fight for the Ishin Shishi. The time had come for a new era, he believed: an era of peace and prosperity, of culture and enlightenment. _Meiji_. The arts of war ought to be just that – arts to be studied and appreciated, not a violent part of everyday life. And so to fight for that future, before he was fifteen he was an assassin – the foremost assassin of the time.

There had been a woman, later; a woman who shed doubts not on his cause but on his method. Yukishiro Tomoe. She had grown into his life from a liability to his beloved wife. She had died on his own blade, at his own hands.

He had ceased operating as an assassin of the shadows after that, and at nineteen, he turned away from the life of a killer altogether and set out to wander Japan, seeking a way to atone for the hundreds of deaths for which he was responsible. He was not to be allowed to travel unprotected; Arai Shakku who had made so many blades for the war caught him as he left on that last fateful night.

"Try fighting with this at your side," he had said as he tossed the sheathed blade. Himura Kenshin, better known then as Battousai, had been startled by the fine sword. It was a work of art, as were all the blades of Arai Shakku – but the honed edge was on the inner curve. A sakabatou. A sword that would not kill, as he had sworn to do. It had been the sole condition he had set forth: he would become hitokiri and slay for the new era, but at the end of the war, once it was won, he would lay down the sword and never take another life.

Seven years of wandering, with no destination or any hope of rest.

Another shiver seized him in its unforgiving grip. He was too cold, too hungry, too tired. In the tiny lean-to, he huddled into himself against the storm. Closing his eyes, he folded his hands and prayed. Words he had long thought forgotten swam up through the hazy surface of memories and bubbled forth softly from his frozen lips. Did he believe in anything anymore? Was there anything or anyone to hear his prayers?

Did it matter?

The rote activity he half-remembered from his childhood soothed him. He slipped quietly into sleep. He did not expect to see morning.

Sunrise slipped gentle fingers of faint warmth over him and he awoke. He was more than a little surprised to find himself still alive. He had to move on, find somewhere to stay for a little, to earn a little money to keep going.

He knew he was not far from Tokyo, but he had been avoiding people for almost two weeks. The thoughts from the night before had been haunting him again and though he knew avoidance was no way to atone for anything, he hated the doubts and depression that hounded him at those times. Now, his health was suffering for it and if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that suffering and dying from neglect was no way to right the wrongs he'd done. Idly he wondered when he'd know his atonement was complete, and he had to answer himself.

"There will never be an end." The words rang hollowly as he trudged through the snowy woods. Evening was well under way when he finally stumbled across a small shed. Not far away, he could see a large mansion through the trees. The shed, on closer inspection, seemed to be a small storage unit that had been converted into an herbal workshop.

He knocked, and there was no answer. The door was not locked, and he stepped inside.

No one was there at the moment, but it seemed that a small pharmacy was being developed in the small room. He prayed that whoever worked here would not mind him staying for the night. He would go to the main house in the morning and ask for work to make up for his lodging there, and perhaps for some food or even a job. Tonight, his body was failing him and the small fish he'd managed to catch the day before was not enough. He needed to rest.

He curled up in the darkest unoccupied corner and fell asleep.

It was early morning when the door opened and the woman stepped inside. She did not look around but went directly to the table she'd set up at which to work. She did not see the amber eyes in the darkness of the corner, alert and awake, watching her as she quietly began to lay out the ingredients she would use that day.

His first instinct was to flee, to use his godlike speed and agility to escape unnoticed, but when he saw the young woman with bowed head kneeling in front of the table, he stopped himself. Instead of fleeing, he used her preoccupation with her task to slip silently outside, then knocked on the door as though he'd just arrived.

"Your pardon, miss, but would you be able to spare a poor rurouni something to eat?"

"Oh!" The woman turned, startled out of her thoughts, and regarded him with fear. He was glad he'd remembered to hide the scars on his face under a bandage; there was little he could do with his hair. As it was, she seemed terrified.

"Your pardon. This one did not mean to startle you," he said, bowing deeply.

But she had already noticed his travel-worn clothing, the gaunt look in his face.

"I have nothing here." She watched him.

"This one begs your forgiveness for his rude intrusion," Kenshin said, still smiling but with regret. He began to back out of the small room.

"Wait, rurouni. I did not say I can give you nothing. You don't look well," she said. Eyeing her work table, she set up the tiny teapot she kept there for her own use over a candle stub and quickly selected some herbs to steep as it heated. "Take this, once it's done, and I'll try and bring back food from lunch. I'd send you to the house, but I don't think that would be in your best interests. You may as well sit here for now."

Blinking at her in bewilderment, Kenshin did as he was told.

"I hope you'll forgive me, but I must keep working; the formula for this medicine is a secret but it helps many people. It's a painkiller that is very strong," she said. "I have to keep working in order to make enough. I swore I would never reveal the formula but as a doctor, I must do what I can to make people's lives better."

"You're a doctor?" Kenshin was surprised. "But you're –"

"A woman?" The young woman whirled to face him, her long hair swishing pleasantly around her face as her cinnamon eyes sparked anger.

"This one was going to say very young, but now that you mention it…"

Something changed in her eyes. "So you didn't notice I'm a woman, then?"

"This one noticed." Noticed indeed, though he quelled the thought before it could develop. The woman in front of him reminded him of _her_, physically, though his initial impression was that the two women were very different personalities. But something about her, perhaps it was her hair, or the way she moved, or her face… reminded him of the wife he had slain. "You are a very beautiful woman, and so very young to be a doctor."

She studied him for a long time, uncertain whether he meant it as a compliment. Finally she made a small sound of disgust and turned back to her work.

"Is there something this one can do to help?"

"Thank you, but no. I think you're rather young and ragged yourself to know much of medicine." She spoke dismissively.

"This one looks younger than he is," he said. "As for the raggedness, that can't quite be helped until a job is found to raise some money."

"Well, you won't have much luck here unless you're any good with that thing," she countered, looking over her shoulder at him and jerking her chin to indicate his sword. "The master of this house enjoys surrounding himself with bodyguards. He's also... not to be trusted."

"Oh?"

The woman nodded. "I know he sells the medicine I make for profit. But I get none of it. And he… My teacher died because of a mistake that man made." She took a deep, ragged breath. "But you're just a rurouni. You don't care about my problems."

Kenshin scratched his head. "This one might argue that."

"Why should you care?"

"People ought to care about one another."

"Then 'this one' is a fool for believing that. New era or not, people won't change. Those of us who can do something do what we can, but the cruel and evil ones will always outnumber the good and caring." She looked sad and defeated.

"This one refuses to believe that." He knelt next to her, careful to move loudly enough for her to be aware of his presence, intending only to reassure. Also, he was curious about what medicine she was preparing. "He has to believe that there is redemption for those whose deeds are forced into evil but whose hearts are not. That there are kind people in the world whose inherent goodness will overcome the darkness in those who have a harder fight against it."

His words and tone touched her, clearly. "Rurou—" she stopped as she turned to face him and realized how close he was. ~Oh. Kami. Not this…~ she prayed silently. Her body's reaction to him was unexpected and intense. ~This man...~

"Oro?" Kenshin felt himself flushing. The closeness had affected him as well, albeit a bit differently. He fell over as he scrabbled backwards, landing in an undignified heap. "Ororo…" He managed to get his feet back underneath himself and rose, a little shakily.

The woman smiled slightly, grateful for the moment to gather herself. "Rurouni, you speak passionate words but you're barely able to stand. Stay here and when I return from lunch I'll bring you something to eat. Just don't touch anything. Please." He bowed and sat in the corner, sipping the tea. Peppermint and rose hips. He identified chamomile, as well, and something else he thought might be Echinacea. He nodded to himself; he might have made something very similar, left to his own devices.

He dozed, waiting for her to come back. That jolt of physical desire had been intense, unexpected and upsetting. He didn't know a thing about her. She was probably married or at least betrothed. Someone as beautiful as that, and as intelligent? Any man would be a fool to let her go.

So, let him be a fool; he'd gotten pretty good at that over the years. He'd never lacked for offers, though he'd never understood why. And she hadn't been offering. He would let her feed him, and he would move on. He would ask if she might let him spend one more night in her workroom.

She returned at last and began pulling wrapped packages out of the sleeves of her kimono, onigiri and similarly portable edibles. She handed him a single plain rice ball as he opened his eyes.

"Start with this. I can tell you haven't eaten in days. If you can hold it down, we'll see what else you can handle."

"The tea was very good. Thank you, doctor." He accepted the rice ball, knowing she was right and he must not gorge himself, as tempted as he was.

"You're welcome. It had peppermint and chamomile—"

"Rosehips, too, and Echinacea?" Kenshin finished for her, then smiled at her surprise. "This one is no doctor but did spend some time making simple medicines during the war."

She nodded, then shook her head. "You are a complicated and confusing man, rurouni."

"This one asks your forgiveness." She did not reply.

"How are you feeling?" she said after a while.

"Better. The onigiri was good."

She handed him another. "Then eat a little more and see how you feel in a while." She returned to her work, and he watched her in silence, eating slowly and enjoying the taste of the first real food he'd had in weeks. Fresh fish roasted immediately after being caught was good, but camp food did not compare to even the simplest home cooked meal.

The afternoon passed that way, Kenshin eating slowly as the woman worked quickly. They did not speak of anything personal until the sun was setting.

"I'll bring something to you after dinner. Stay here for the night, but stay hidden. If you're caught, they'll probably kill you," she said. "Intruders aren't welcomed here."

Kenshin nodded, watching her. What an odd situation… He was on a mission to atone for his sins, helping those in need when he could, but the woman who closed the door and left him alone with his thoughts seemed to feel have a similar need, though he sensed her motives differed. She stayed in a dangerous situation because she was working for the greater good.

She reminded him of himself when he was younger.

He sighed, feeling annoyingly old at the thought, and studied her work station. It seemed she was working with poppy. He hoped that she was using it correctly. She didn't seem the type to work with illegal drugs.

He didn't touch anything on the table, but he did sweep the floor and wash it while he waited.

She gave him an odd look when she returned. "Did you wash the floor in here?" At his nod, she sighed and shook her head. "You are a very confusing man."

"This one did not want to sleep in dirt?" he tried.

"I'll accept that. I don't know why but I'll accept that." She handed him a blanket and some more food. "Don't eat this all at once. When I return in the morning I'll bring you something to take on the road, but it's too dangerous for you to stay more than one night."

He smiled and did not tell her it would be his second night there. "Understood." He was a little surprised when she knelt back at the worktable.

"The only way I could get back out here was by telling him I would do more." Her expression was shielded.

Kenshin raised his eyebrows. The more he learned about her, the odder the situation seemed. Still, she did not herself seem to be in immediate danger. She worked for a paranoid businessman. He was not a nice person, but Kenshin had long ago learned that nice did not amount to anything in the business world.

"Tell me about the owner of that house," he said conversationally.

"I'd rather not, if you please." There was no tone to her speech, no indication whether the polite request was made out of disinterest or fear.

"Well, what about yourself?"

"Why do you ask?" She looked back at him over her shoulder. "After all, I'm no one to you."

"You aren't, though. You are one of the kind people in whom this one believes," he said. "This one knows little about this place, but enough to understand that this house is not a place where kindness abounds. The doctor this one sees before him disregards her own troubles in favor of helping those in need. That is an amazing thing."

She made a small noise that might have been agreement as she turned her eyes back to her task. "There are better ways to know a person than to talk," she said.

"Oro?"

"Observation," she said coolly, though her body's reaction to her own words would have given them the lie. "Watching a person's actions and, in the longer term, how they live their lives. For instance, I already know more than that you are a very confusing man. You have been through hell but believe the best of people. I don't know why you've chosen the life of a wandering hermit and I don't want to. The only past that concerns me is my own. Whoever you are, whatever you've done, it doesn't matter. All I see is that you are a man in need of medical attention."

Though she had not turned to look at him, she could feel his eyes on her. If she had seen his expression, unguarded for a brief moment, she would have been lost. But she did not look.

Never before had anyone said that to him. In seven years of wandering, he lived with the shadow of Hitokiri Battousai dwarfing his soul. Most people he met knew only to fear him; never before had anyone simply accepted his presence, especially once his identity was known.

This woman did not care who he was. She helped him, refusing to know or care how many deaths he had on his hands, simply because he needed help. This was a woman who would love freely and forever.

This was a woman of whom a killer like himself could never be worthy.

The shadow of that also passed over his face and still she did not turn.

"It's late. I'd best be going back, and you should sleep." She rose, still without looking at him, and gathered the fruits of her evening's labor. "Sleep well, rurouni."

"Sleep well, doctor," he said, still battling with himself.

Finally he fell into a restless sleep. He woke up several times during the night. It was cold, and though she had not been ungenerous, he had neglected his own health for too long.

He did not know what time it was when a soft knock came at the doorway. He froze, remembering the woman's admonition not to let anyone know he was there.

"Rurouni? It's me." The voice was pitched just loud enough for him to hear. He recognized her voice and opened the door.

"I couldn't sleep. It's too cold. I thought you might want another blanket," she said.

"This one is not too cold," he protested, but her hand brushed his as he accepted it from her.

"Liar," she said, barely above a whisper. "Your hands are freezing."

"This one will be fine. Thank you for the blanket. There really is no need to worry."

Still, she stayed. "Rurouni. You will be moving on in the morning, and I will probably never see you again. But you have given me hope again, and I want to thank you for that."

"Hope?"

"Yes," she said but did not explain.

"You have done more than enough, providing this one with food and shelter and healing," he said softly.

He could hear her shaking her head. "Those are not mine to give. Those were… borrowed under pretense from one who would begrudge them to a stranger. All I can give you is my gratitude."

He understood what she meant. "This one cannot accept what you are offering."

She took a deep breath. "I can't go with you. Someone needs to look after you, since you don't seem to do it," she said calmly, even as she wondered what had come over her. ~I should not have come outside again.~ "What I do is needed here. Though there is no kindness in that house, I must believe that the medicine I make for him truly is going where it can do some good." She stood straight and proud though her body trembled.

He could hear how she controlled her breathing. Desperately he tried to stall her. The offer was tempting. Why should she want to go with him? It struck him as an odd thing for her to say. He did not know her well enough to understand that it was as close to a cry for help as she could bring herself. "Tell me your name. Kindness such as yours should be remembered."

"My name – no. No, I don't want to be someone to you, rurouni. I don't want you to become someone to me. If it's meant that we meet again someday, then so it will be, but I should never have met you here. I can't have met you here. It would mean my life." She was afraid, but not of him. She seemed to waver, alternating between being a sensual seductress and a frightened girl.

"This one cannot accept that," he said again. ~Comfort. She's offering only comfort. But is she offering it to me, or begging it for herself? She doesn't seem to think she should matter to anyone…~

"How old are you, anyway?" she seemed to change the topic suddenly.

"This one is…" He thought for a moment. "Twenty-four? Maybe twenty-five. Has the new year come yet?" He was embarrassed to realize he didn't know the exact date – but then, it was only about two years since the Western calendar had been made the standard. It only added to his confusion.

She didn't answer his question. "You don't know? No, don't answer. I am nineteen. That's not so much difference."

"No, it isn't," he admitted uncertainly. He wondered if working with so much poppy had affected her, but her eyes were clear.

Again she seemed to change topics abruptly. "Rurouni, you have gentleness in your eyes."

~If only you knew what these eyes have seen.~ He said nothing.

"You believe in kindness. Only kind people believe in kindness. I want to know what it's like."

"Oro?"

"I have said it before. There is no kindness in this house. No gentleness… I would like to know what kindness feels like. Before that chance gets taken away forever." Her voice broke finally on the last words and she turned to leave, resignation written in the lines of her body. Something in her tone told him exactly what she meant.

~She's so young, and so beautiful. If that is the help she is asking, would it be wrong to deny her? There are worse things to suffer from than dying.~ "Wait. This one made a promise to protect the people from suffering."

She stopped but did not turn to look at him.

He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully and struggling against embarrassment. "You deserve good things. This one could not provide them. What you ask of this one would be no help at all."

She kept her back to him and did not speak for a long moment. "That wish alone is more than I have known in many years, since my fam—" she cut herself off, and her tone became more wistful than desperate, "Tomorrow you will leave. I will never know kindness like yours again. Thank you for what you have shown me, at least," she said and she turned at last to look at him. The pained gratitude in her eyes tore at him before she turned away again and took a step toward the door.

~Something isn't right…~ He spoke as slowly as she had. "This one is a wanderer. What you ask would be no kindness to either one of us."

She flushed, visibly swallowing her anger. Still, her tone was arch as she worked to cover her embarrassment. "Am I so revolting, then, that you wouldn't… lie with me?"

If he'd had any doubts about her innocence, the hesitation as she spoke the verb cut them off. ~It figures that now she gets a temper. It seems that no matter what I say, she's going to misinterpret it…~ He sighed. ~There isn't anything I can do to prevent what's going to happen to her. Hundreds… Thousands of women are forced into such situations. Yet… I can't just leave her here to be used, and she won't leave as long as her medical skills are needed.~ "No. You are not revolting at all."

Her lips paled and her cheeks flushed, her eyelids lowered as she turned her head away and fiddled with the ends of her hair. "You are as afraid of being hurt as I am. I would guess you've been hurt before. I have nothing but pain to look forward to. I think you and I could both stand a little kindness."

Finally, she looked up at him. Their eyes met for a long moment. Wordlessly, he moved towards her and closed the door.

He raised his hand to her face, meeting her gaze in the faint moonlight that came in through the lone small window. She was a little taller than he was, but somehow she seemed small and vulnerable as he stepped in closer. ~She thinks she knows what she wants, but she's absolutely terrified. But what she needs… That, I could try to do.~ "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I – yes, of course I want it," she said, defiance in her eyes as she laid one delicate hand on his chest.

"Oro!" He blinked and tensed; her hand was freezing. Releasing her face, he took her hand in both of his and began to chafe it.

"What… What are you doing?" Confusion and indignation warred on the woman's fine features.

"Your hands are freezing. This one thought perhaps you might prefer it otherwise. Of course, if you'd rather stay cold, that could easily be arranged," he said, letting go.

Flustered, she glared at him. "No. That's… It's fine. You may continue." Instead of sounding authoritative, however, she sounded more like a child. It made him smile, and he ducked his head rather than risk her wrath. Confusion tended to annoy people, and he thought he'd figured out what she needed. After a few minutes, her hand felt warm in his and he picked up her other hand. As he rubbed it back into warmth, she seemed to relax a little.

~She looks so lost. Nineteen or not, she's hardly more than a scared child.~

"My hands are warm now, rurouni," she said, placing one against his chest once more.

"Yes," he said, pulling her against him. He led her to the blankets in the corner where he'd chosen to sleep. Wrapping her shoulders in one, he brought the other around them both and pulled her back gently against his chest. "Now, close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?"

"Yes."

"Okay, my eyes are closed," she said, her confusion clear.

"Good." Careful to keep his arms atop her own, he held her close and began speaking softly.

She listened for a long moment before interrupting. "Rurouni?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

He had been struggling to remember some of the less violent stories he remembered from his childhood. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember much beyond an insipid little anecdote from his days on his parents' farm, and one or two of his former master's rather ridiculous tales of daring adventure and ...overwhelming modesty. "This one was… umm…" He'd never been good at lying, or making up excuses on the spot.

"You're telling me children's stories."

"That would seem to be so," he admitted.

She picked her head up and turned in his arms to look at him. "Children's stories?" Her amused disbelief somehow soothed his embarrassment and gave him words.

"Your family is gone, correct?"

"I – yes."

"This one lost his family at a very young age as well. This one thought that perhaps for tonight, it might be imagined that this one had a little sister."

"An older brother…" Her voice trailed off into a strangled, hiccupping sound as her face crumpled. Concerned, he stared at her for a long moment before once more pulling the crying woman to his chest. For a long time, she sobbed quietly; even after she had calmed down, he felt the tears flowing as she drifted to sleep, held carefully in his arms. He was acutely aware every time she moved or her breathing changed, but he also eventually fall asleep.

She slipped away before dawn, back to the big house. Though he was aware of it when she woke and departed, he gave no sign. She returned, looking tired but with a serenity and peace she had not had the day before, some few hours later with the promised sustenance.

"Thank you," he said simply as she handed him the packages.

"It isn't much but if you're careful it can last a few days, until you find yourself somewhere safer to stay," she apologized.

"It is more than this one has had in a long time," he said wryly.

She shook her head at that and knelt to begin work. "You should go, before they find you here."

"This one is... not incapable of defense." A slight smile lightened the words even as it gave them weight. As if to underscore his words, his hand brushed the hilt of the sheathed blade at his waist.

"I don't doubt you can handle a sword, rurouni. But I'd rather not see you handle sixty of them. If anyone ever finds out you were here…"

~It would mean her death. Not because of who I am, or who I was, but simply for showing kindness to a stranger. She doesn't care about my past. She doesn't care about anything except helping those in need and taking away the pain of others, even though she doesn't even know if there's any respite for her own.~ "Doctor."

"Yes?"

"This one is very grateful."

She smiled over her shoulder at him. "I told you. The food and lodging were given freely, if not by the original owner."

"For that, too.."

She was silent for a long moment. "I wish… No. That way lies danger," she said. "I could wish to go with you, but this medicine won't make itself. I have to stay here. And you cannot."

"You deserve good things. This one could not provide them." Echoing his words from the night before, he brushed her hair back away from her face – a tender gesture, more brotherly than not.

She closed her eyes, turning instinctively toward his touch. "Where will you go?"

"This one is a wanderer. It's what he does."

"I see." She fell silent again. "Sayounara, rurouni."

"Sayounara, sensei." They stood that way for a long moment, her expression an odd combination of serenity, joy, and sadness.

Himura Kenshin stepped out of the small guest house, surveyed the area, and picked a direction. He began walking forward and never once looked back. The night had never happened. Even her kind words had been a dream. Such had been his promise, to spare her life.

The woman never looked up from her work. She moved slowly that day, tired but not unhappy for the first time in months. She lost track of time, focused on her work, until the door slid open and a tall figure was outlined in the frame. "You missed lunch. Here." He tossed her a wrapped package. "You shouldn't try that again."

"To try what?" she said, looking at him with innocent bewilderment. "Missing lunch?"

"Hiding someone. This time, you're lucky, but if it happens again..."

She shook her head. "I was not hiding anyone."

The man let his hand fall to the sword at his side. "Like I said. Don't try it again."

"I will be at the house for dinner, Kuno. Now I'm working," she said, turning her back on the arrogant swordsman.

"You'd better learn to stop playing with fire, Megumi," he said darkly as he walked away.

_[AN] This story has been through so many incarnations… At first it was a standalone, and then it was going to be a prologue to a work in progress. (Yes, a Kenshin and Megumi pairing, and yes, in the original incarnation of this piece there was intimacy.) And then I suffered a revelation. No, this SHOULD be a standalone piece. And I had a much better idea for the opening to the other fic, and decided that the intimate encounter didn't work. _

_I wondered what Kenshin was actually DOING during his ten year journey. Where did he go? Who did he meet? Surely he had to have SOME human interaction before he met Kaoru and the others. And since he was avoiding Kyoto like the plague, well, wasn't it possible that he'd been to or at least near Tokyo before? He wasn't likely to have much of an income considering that no one knew who he was, and the people who did, didn't know WHERE he was… So it must not have been easy. He wasn't likely to go around begging either, but I also don't think he would intentionally sneak up on a lone woman, so that was probably his safest approach. _

_I had no intention of hiding her identity, so if you figured out who it was immediately (even if you didn't take the summary and my known inclinations into account) that's totally fine. As for why Kenshin didn't recognize her at any time later on, like, in the series, well, he did promise that he would never let on that he'd met her before, since her safety was at risk. And Kensan is one who keeps his promises. [/AN]_


End file.
